[ it's heimdall who takes him aside to tell him the news: there's someone you'll want to see. in the wake of hela's destruction and ragnarok itself, those words offer a startling amount of hope he would almost rather not have. what if he's wrong, and this person is not one of his friends? his people should all be equal in his eyes, but the thought of having one more of his closest companions by his side to see him through all of this ... it would relieve some of this great burden, and he wouldn't feel so alone. ]
[ he follows heimdall through the corridors of the ship until they reach the med bay and heimdall bows and takes his leave, giving thor the space he needs to face this on his own. he passes by the few wounded left, nodding and waving awkwardly at his injured subjects who no doubt fought bravely against hela's hoard, and a strange sense of guilt wells in his chest because he isn't here to see these people, not really. it was none of their plights that brought him here today. should he do more? what would his father have done? his mother? ]
[ he stops abruptly in the middle of the room, and all thoughts of what he should or shouldn't do disappear from his mind when he catches sight of a familiar face. it's both surprise and relief that keep him grounded, and then an overwhelming sense of joy that has him moving again, to the bed at the end of the room. ]
Hogun. [ he sounds almost out of breath, or perhaps like he's so overcome he might cry. he breaks out into a grin and laughs breathily, taking hogun's hand and squeezing it, as if to convince himself that he truly is there. there, and alive. ] I thought you dead.
[ he almost asks, what of the others? but he already knows the answer. instead, he says teasingly, ] You missed my coronation, old friend. Even Loki was there.
[ it's easy to get lost in the streets of new york. much like the old streets of asgard, the winding halls of the palace β there are no golden spires in what humans call the big apple (and thor still has yet to understand how the city resembles an apple), but the buildings tower as close to the sky as humans can imagine, and it almost feels like home, in one way or another, even with the strange sort of fame that comes from being a god and an avenger. it isn't the attention he seeks, though; or, at least, it's a different kind of attention than that which his people want from him. they need him to solve their problems. here, the humans just want to take photos as evidence that they've met the mighty thor. ]
[ he doesn't always do it on purpose, let the streets lead him from one place to the next with no real destination, but today he just needs to get away from it all for even a moment, just to have time to breathe. his people will understand, surely. after all they've lost, they all need time to ... adjust. to settle. to rebuild, physically and emotionally. asgard isn't a place, but its people do need a place, to live and carry on. and they have, so far, in a rural place called oklahoma, thanks in part to the efforts of tony stark. but even in a city bustling with people rebuilding their lives, there comes a time when the quiet seeps in like a cold wind, a reminder that there are fewer of them now, and that nothing will ever be the same. ]
[ new york is louder. full of horns blaring and the scuffle of hundreds of feet on pavement, flashing lights and billboards that advertise products, shows, stores thor has never heard of. it reminds him of how little time he's spent on midgard, how little he knows of its people. he will never be one of them β and on most occasions, his attempts to blend in with them are futile, given who he is and how recognizable he is with or without the cape, even with the significant changes to his appearance β but he can learn to appreciate them more, these people who look at him and see the thing they could only hope to be. (it surprises him still how powerful the human conviction can be, how they are willing to risk everything for the things they believe in.) ]
[ even without mjolnir, or the bifrost, getting to the city isn't hard. stephen strange offered him a bit of portal magic in return for his word that he would keep a watchful eye on his brother, and that if he ever needed assistance, the portal would take him to and from new york. he hasn't once used it for the purpose of seeking out strange's help, but it makes these bouts to the city more convenient than they would have been otherwise. ]
[ the people often blur together after some time, but something familiar prickles his skin as he makes his way down the street, dressed to match the locals in their business attire, as if he's off to meet someone important for lunch. he has no one to meet, and nowhere to go to, and yet he feels as if he is headed toward someone, or something, no longer aimlessly wandering the streets in search of something he won't find. there's a pull in his chest, almost like home is calling to him. ]
[ then he sees her. she doesn't look different, not as drastically as he does. she's exactly as he remembers her, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, her presence intimidating the very air around her. he can't believe it. for a moment, he doesn't. the lady sif, here. in new york. it seems β¦ too good to be true. and yet his heart swells and he finds himself rushing forward, calling her name, with a smile as broad as his shoulders. ]
Lady Sif! [ there's joy underneath the relief of seeing her, alive, but it barely masks the apprehension of the thought of explaining what's happened β why he looks like this, why he's here and not avenging, what's become of asgard. still, he won't let a reunion like this go to waste. he claps his hands on her shoulders amiably, looking her over as if to convince himself it's really her. ] It's good to see you. [ a beat. loki had said something about banishment, but he hadn't specified where, and until now thor hadn't had time to consider asking. besides, knowing sif, she wouldn't have simply sat around. he suspects this whole time she's been trying to find a way back to asgard. nevertheless, ] What are you doing on Midgard?
[ lady sif has been in new york city for longer than she would like to admit. her banishment had come with more than an acceptable amount of anger, anger at odin, anger at asgard, anger at loki, because she knows that it had more to do with that god of mischief than anything. she doesn't know why, doesn't know where how, because the rumor's of loki's death had been spread and known in asgard by that time, but she knew - a deep curling in her gut, an unsettling motion in her chest. heimdall given her a reassuring nod before she had been sent off through the bifrost, before the shock of the whole ordeal had worn off, and she'd been sent. to the far reaches, to the furthest galaxy.
she knows, like she knows most thing, that heimdall had done what he could for her. and that it hadn't just been the hands of fate that left her off in mitgard. that, when she came back from the sudden shift of transportation, it was to a familiar landscape. she knows that if loki had anything to say about it, she would not have ended up here. not somewhere she knew, not somewhere so close to others who could figure this out, who could come to understand why and how and when. but she was thankful for the knowing eyes on her back, thankful that even in this time of betrayal, of being told never to come home, she could at least set foot on familiar soil.
( she had wished for thor so much in those final moments, had wished for his sudden return in hopes that maybe he could see what was happening and stop it before it got out of hand. she had known he wouldn't hear, that he wouldn't return, as his missions were important for all of asgard and the universe at large.
but still, a part of her had hoped. )
new york in and of itself was a mess. it always felt that way, when she had been here before, and the longer she spent the more it felt the truth. people, buildings, heroes, criminals, rushing around her at all times and all ways. it had taken some getting used to, as she garnered more attention than she wanted to no matter her attempts to blend in, but she managed it. it has been some time, after all, and she is nothing if not adaptable. she still hasn't been sure of her position - her interactions with the avengers every now, her understanding of the issues between tony stark and steve rogers, what has been happening, but she has an apartment. she has some steady work. she has been dealing with each day as it has come and she has missed home, desperately and wholly.
the lack of communication, truly, had been the most difficult part. she didn't know the state of her friends, the state of her home, and she didn't know - wouldn't know - unless someone found it fit to seek her out in her banishment. and maybe there was a part of her that hoped that by being at mitgard, that by being here in new york city, she would come across someone who would bring her home.
though, despite that hope, she doesn't expect her name to be called out to her over the crowds. so much that she almost doesn't even recognize it - her alias has been so different, and she's gotten so used to it, so familiar, that her name doesn't even get her attention. not at first. until she thinks, a moment or two later, that she freezes in her steps and turns back to the sound of it. she might have just heard it, the first few months she lived here in new york city she thought she heard her name everywhere, thought she saw her friends in everyone.
so when she does turn, seeing thor rushing after her, she almost doesn't believe it. ]
Wha- [ her eyes widen, still not convinced until his hands clasp over her shoulders, and he's solid, and he's there, and he's asking her about what she's doing here and that it's good to see her and she just can't. quite. ]
What happened to your hair? [ is the first question that comes out, despite her attention behind elsewhere. ] And your eye? [ she reaches out to set her hand on his cheek, her brow furrowed as she examines the patch. the spot. he looks like allfather she thinks briefly, before she jerks herself out of the thought, because he asked her a question. because he's standing in front of her and looks like he belongs, and she can't quite wrap her head around it. ]
[ it's impossible to have a conversation with valkyrie without the inclusion of alcohol. this, thor cannot really complain about, given the amount of ale that's been thrust upon them from who knows where in honor of who knows what β the resettlement, perhaps? or the ongoing festivities celebrating thor's coronation now that they're safely on midgard? thor finds it hard to remember what they were talking about at all, if it was even important. he's starting to think it probably doesn't matter. ]
[ a warm buzz courses through his veins, similar but not in entirely the same as the way lightning crackles beneath his skin. he hears valkyrie address him, and then give me your hand and he almost responds what for? until he looks down and realizes his knuckles are still bloody. right, of course. they'd been sparring. hand-to-hand, it seems. without mjolnir, and the loss of asgard's armory, he hasn't been left with many options. there are plenty of swords, collected from those who had fought valiantly against hela's hoard, but he still hasn't found one that carries the right weight, the right balance β and valkyrie won't let him have hers. he's asked. frequently. and very nicely. as her king. ]
[ it take him a moment to finally offer his hand to her, the volume of alcohol he's ingested in such a short time making his movement sluggish. the last time he drank this much, he was much younger and half as wise. if he listens closely enough, he can almost hear the boom of volstagg's laughter and the lilt of fandral's jests, a distant echo of another time. ]
Thank you. [ he hears himself say, and perhaps he means for this distraction, or for something else. everything, maybe. ]
[ it has been a long, long time since someone has thanked her and meant it sincerely. longer still since it was one of her own people, let alone her king. gratitude before the battle for asgard was found in payment β which fed a habit, which fed a need to forget. she'd told thor that she wouldn't quit the former but do her best not to fall back into the latter. and it's been hard as hell, she slips up still, and she's relearning what it means to not only hold herself to a higher standard but to be who she once was. valkyrie was a title; but as the last, it may as well be her name, too.
thor is king, now. but he is still young enough to wear the mantle of who he once was before the crown, too. so she feels no need to stand on ceremony with him. she doesn't hold back when they drink or when they fight. she doesn't mince words. but she's just drunk enough now to let the walls come down a little, holed up as they are away from the celebrations.
she asks for his hand and he offers it and without further ado, she tugs him down onto the floor to join her. she doesn't remember sitting (falling?) but that's nothing new; she knows, even with the room gently spinning and decades out of practice, that she is still one of the best. maybe she won, maybe she let him win, maybe it was a draw. but they're on the floor now and she reaches for her half-empty bottle of liquor to pour a splash on his bloodied knuckles. ]
Sorry, [ she mumbles, not really meaning it. but she's got a towel slung over her shoulder and rather than using it to mop the sweat off her face, she dabs at his hand, frowning a little as if that will make her eyes focus better. her lip is bleeding, slightly, but it just makes her smile. that old warrior spirit, maybe. ] Don't know if you should be thanking me for this, though.
[ if there's one place thor visits more frequently than steve's bedchamber, it is the stasis units. perhaps more often than he'd like to admit, he finds himself here, standing in front of one particular pod: the one housing his brother, in a sleep he isn't sure what to call. the odinsleep? or is it the thorsleep now that odin is gone and he's king? (he vaguely recalls someone calling it cryosleep, and wonders why he had never heard of this cryo before.) possibly, it's neither, and loki remains suspended by some other form of magic until such time he deems it worthy to return. and, knowing loki, prolonging that return has always been more satisfying than the return itself, all the better to play thor's heartstrings like a well-tuned instrument. ]
[ at least, he thinks, loki is alive. at least, he thinks, he has one piece of home left. at least, he thinks, he isn't doomed to walk this realm as the last of the asgardians. ]
[ it's the middle of the night, sleep nothing but a distant notion. was ragnarok but a precursor to this storm that ravages realms? was he always meant to end up in this place? what connection does all of this have to larger hands at play? there are few answers to be found, and even less peace. it helps, sometimes, to be here, surrounded by the faint mechanical hum of the pods and the faces of those not yet awoken. they may not all be asgardian, but he still feels some obligation to protect them, just as he swore to protect the people of midgard so long ago. ]
[ he turns at the sound of footsteps, and a small smile graces his lips at the sight of steve coming toward him. he doesn't say anything yet; this ritual of sorts has been going on long enough that it doesn't require explanation, and steve knows well enough by now that thor is not always a man of many words. ]
[ It just so happens that Steve isn't exactly a man of many words either. Less so, even, since he'd ended up here on El Nysa.
Maybe there isn't a whole lot to say.
Or maybe it's a reminder of that old adage: actions speak louder than words.
In any case, Steve finds himself spending a lot of time up here on Thesa station - not particularly because he's got people to watch over (although there is that) but because Thor spends much of his time here and Thor ... well, sometimes Steve thinks he should be watching over him. There's a hell of a lot more to the Norse god than meets the eye, and it's a lesson he'd finally had the chance to learn since they'd been brought here, saved from the Storm that raged their worlds.
They have a lot in common, and they're friends (and something else) besides. Steve wants to be there for the other man in as great a capacity as he can be. ]
Figured I'd find you here.
[ His voice sounds much louder in the quiet of this space. ]
( the curve of thor's lips against loki's skin seems to indicated he does, indeed, remember that one instance, some ages ago when they were not yet men, still foolish princes of the crown with worries only as big as whether or not one could drown in a cask of ale. of course, one might argue thor is still a fool now, even with the crown on his head β and, truthfully, he wouldn't think them wrong.
this, after all, is incredibly foolish. but loki has always made him a fool, in this and in other things, forever until the end of time. a wise man would let him go. a wise man he is not. )
And what, pray tell, was this very important work of yours? ( if there truly was important work at all and not just the excuse of it, which thor finds highly more likely. still, that isn't the most important matter at hand.
he guides loki's hips downward with the weight of his hand, his cock already swelling beneath his pants, beckoning for the heat and friction only loki can provide. his hand could, too, he supposes, but it's never quite the same. )
( one might argue that they're both guilty of a little foolishness from time to time. loki wouldn't argue it too loudly, and he would add that thor is the bigger offender. but if loki makes thor a fool, every foolish thing loki has done can be traced back to thor. it's part of their vicious cycle. forever doomed to bring out the worst in each other.
it applies even when they're engaged in activities not designed to hurt, activities that are just the opposite. thor may be king, but that makes this more precarious, not less. even if they weren't brothers, loki is still a liar, a traitor, a murderer in the eyes of many. barely fit to be at thor's side, let alone in his bed.
or, his lap, as the case may be. his hands slide down between them and undo the fastens of thor's pants. loki never did care about what other people think. )
The work you didn't do because you were too busy reveling with Asgard's sole surviving Valkyrie. ( it's a guess, but an educated one. ) I knew she'd be a bad influence on you. ( and that's a deflection.
also a deflection: the way he wraps his fist around thor's cock and draws it out of his pants. earlier teasing aside, it is truly impressive. that loki thinks so is obvious in the way he handles it now, the way his eyes darken and his lips part slightly. )
( upon further reflection, it may not have been the best idea to allow mantis to read loki. it had started out as something of a joke, a dare, really, to see if she could even get a read on him at all. he'd boasted all the usual (god this, magic that), and thor had opted to keep his mouth shut on the matter, more invested in the truths loki no doubt would conceal from himself that mantis might reveal. he could guess, of course, at a few, but the one mantis chose to announce ... well, it had been less than expected. a surprise? not entirely. perhaps the both of them had always known, in some way, it had simply never been expressed so blatantly until now. a confirmation of a feeling as old as life itself.
he could have said something, then, in front of the motley crew of so-called guardians of the galaxy, but these particular matters are always best discussed in private. not out of shame, for there is very little thor feels ashamed of β it is, quite honestly, because he knows there are only two ways a conversation of this nature could go: a knife in his side, or his cock buried to the hilt, neither of which he would like to display publicly. the complex relationship he has with his brother is of no one else's concern, anyway.
now, they're alone in what has been designated thor's quarters (and by extension loki's), a strange tension buzzing between them. thor sits at the edge of a cramped bed, his arms folded across his chest, his gaze unwavering on loki before him. )
You're going to have to speak to me eventually, you know.
( it shouldn't have been possible. an inferior creature like that insectoid shouldn't have been able to probe his subconscious, especially not with such ease. what was worse, he was so shocked that he hadn't been able to hide it. anger was swift to follow, rising to the surface and making his fingers twitch to retaliate, with a spell or a knife, it would've been anyone's guess. but he tamped down the urge, letting the white-hot emotion simmer just beneath his skin. he still tries most days to be on his best behavior, so as not to alienate his best chance at survival in the coming war.
it's got nothing to do with anything mantis described. loki has little care for thor or his friends, and as soon as it becomes more convenient to be in someone else's favor, he'll switch sides. that bug woman didn't know what she was talking about. and if he's been uncharacteristically silent since her little empathic parlor trick, it's not because he's embarrassed. because that would make it seem like what she said was true.
while thor sits on the bed, loki stands in the corner of their small room, undoing one of his gauntlets and not looking at thor. part of him wants to ignore his brother, to play the petty younger sibling and hold his tongue until it riles thor to anger, but that wouldn't look good, either. so, he says, ) And what would you have me speak about?
You know they keep finding thousand year old Viking ships in the ice up here. They've got museums full of the stuff. Very well preserved! The details are incredible, really.
So I figure I can just jump into a fjord and call it a day. Or a century, maybe. That's viable, right?
[ nope, deleting that. that is a can of worms that can stay hermetically sealed and on the shelf with all the other cans he's got going on. it's a full-on pantry of nope in here.
so skip right to losing the point. ]
Somehow I don't think your brother would want to be put in that particular column.
"Proud" is a little too far for something like that but.
[ probably makes him a bad person to be relieved (and maybe a little smug) that Loki knows (mostly) better than to mess with him but. well. good people don't have monsters in their head. oops. ]
PhDs aren't They don't It isn't exactly like that so. No.
Edited (I'm on my phone what do you want ) 2021-05-07 18:08 (UTC)
PhD is a very specific kind of accomplishment, where you have to produce original research and write something up. I don't think I can get much peer review on "Means & Methods of Intimidating Asgardians".
( see, it was a mutual dumping, so they're totally fine and he can call her whenever he wants because they are adults and everything is fine. he just. hasn't. he's been busy. searching the cosmos for infinity stones, winning fights against hulk, kicking his sister's ass. you know, godly things. very godly, not thinking about jane things. it's fine. )
you ever hit send without noticing you missed whole ass sentences of sad meta? nah me either
[ um what the hell fights are you talking about because there's only one reigning and defending champion of Sakaar in Norway, buddy, and he ain't blond that's for damn sure ]
I mean, if you want to then obviously you can. Not about to stop you if you were to do that. But you wouldn't have to just for me, since
Been years anyway. And if she were going to talk to somebody here, it'd definitely be you. Especially with the whole...shift in situation. It's. You know.
( obviously. c'mon, steve. in his defense, thor isn't always on-world, let alone within the range of cell towers. until recently, steve wasn't sure thor knew how to use a phone. so, doesn't hurt to play it safe. )
( guess who is Very Excited to hear from him. yeah, this god. whether he actually knows how to use a phone is still up for debate, but tony at least programmed it with all the avengers' phone numbers for him. )
Have you been to Norway? You should come to Norway. Come see me.
( ... )
Loki's also here, but he's better now, I promise.
( which is subjective at best, but thor's always going to be loki's #1 apologist. )
( loki is complicated, he understands, so it's not a subject he wants to dwell on, especially not when steve reached out to him like this.
the smile that crosses his lips at the mention of thunder is fond, if not a little melancholy. a reminder of what he's lost (even if it's always been part of him). before, that storm might have been his calling card; it still could be if he were anywhere near new york, but β well, without mjolnir, there's a whole ocean between brooklyn and new asgard. )
Ah, not me, I'm afraid. Were you hoping otherwise?
( it didn't really occur to him until thor asked—that part of him had been hoping—but the ache in his chest is unmistakable. it's not overly strong. a tug of longing, the gentle pang of missing a kindred spirit. the avengers had been his family, but thor had always felt the most like a brother.
of course, thor already had a brother. he probably didn't need another. )
I just always kind of wondered how it worked, you know? Being a god of thunder. Are the storms tied to your moods?
( thor feels it, too, that tug in his chest. the ache of yearning for someone he hadn't realized he'd missed this much (how could he when grief was the only thing he knew how to feel); the longing for the familiarity of steve in the wake of so much loss, a reminder that there is still hope left in the world. )
In a way, yes. Mjolnir was something of a conduit, but I've always had the power within me. The stronger the emotion, the stronger the storm.
( it is a comparatively nice feeling—missing someone who's only separated by distance. someone he can still talk to, even if it's not the same as being in thor's presence, feeling the charge in the air that raises the hairs on the back of steve's arms, as if thor had a cloud of electricity constantly hanging around him.
at least, that's what steve always told himself. )
Is it always negative emotions? Or are happy thunderstorms a thing, too?
[ Thirty six hours out of asgard and Bryce is not-quite-pacing back and forth in the room Thor had claimed for himself, shuffling a few scraps of parchment scribbled to the very edge of the margin with names of Asgardians and gladiators alike. The Statesman was not built for anything but things she'd rather not think about, thank you, and certainly not for hauling a mixed bag of refugees across the universe, but this is what they've got and so they've got to make it work.
Which first means finding a place for everyone. ]
That's Korg and Mung and Miek all bunked together, and. No-Name and Yaeris went and cleared out what looked like a linen closet? Or something? Regardless there's now a cocoon on the ceiling and a nest on the floor so they're set. Which just left Hiroim and Elloe and [ she frowns at the scrap of paper in her hand ] Bill, I still don't know how that's his name but not the point.
[ Then again there are many things that Bryce still doesn't know, first and foremost why she's apparently the one in charge of the non-Asgardians shortly followed by why the non-Asgardians want her in charge and actually listen to what she has to say and think she knows what she's doing. Just more people that she'll inevitably disappoint before they wise up and pick somebody who won't screw everything up.
Focus. ]
They just squared away in some backup pantry on the third deck. Which is all to say that unless we stop and pick up some hitchhiker off an asteroid or something, everybody has a room now and there's, um. One less thing to worry about for the next... [ a moment to calculate before she just shrugs ] Five minutes? At least.
[ Of course nowhere on any of Bryce's lists is her own name but that's a minor detail. Sleep is for other peopleβ Even if it weren't (except it definitely is, shush) she'd grown out of needing something as luxurious as a bed years ago, learned to appreciate any relatively flat surface that wasn't freezing cold or flooded up to the knees. Anything past that is...you know. It's gravy. She'll live.
But as stated, sleep's for other people who aren't terrified to blink and lose another two years of their life. So she's fine. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
have some pretentious images bc I feel like it
no subject
[ he follows heimdall through the corridors of the ship until they reach the med bay and heimdall bows and takes his leave, giving thor the space he needs to face this on his own. he passes by the few wounded left, nodding and waving awkwardly at his injured subjects who no doubt fought bravely against hela's hoard, and a strange sense of guilt wells in his chest because he isn't here to see these people, not really. it was none of their plights that brought him here today. should he do more? what would his father have done? his mother? ]
[ he stops abruptly in the middle of the room, and all thoughts of what he should or shouldn't do disappear from his mind when he catches sight of a familiar face. it's both surprise and relief that keep him grounded, and then an overwhelming sense of joy that has him moving again, to the bed at the end of the room. ]
Hogun. [ he sounds almost out of breath, or perhaps like he's so overcome he might cry. he breaks out into a grin and laughs breathily, taking hogun's hand and squeezing it, as if to convince himself that he truly is there. there, and alive. ] I thought you dead.
[ he almost asks, what of the others? but he already knows the answer. instead, he says teasingly, ] You missed my coronation, old friend. Even Loki was there.
sparkles at
vomits words
[ he doesn't always do it on purpose, let the streets lead him from one place to the next with no real destination, but today he just needs to get away from it all for even a moment, just to have time to breathe. his people will understand, surely. after all they've lost, they all need time to ... adjust. to settle. to rebuild, physically and emotionally. asgard isn't a place, but its people do need a place, to live and carry on. and they have, so far, in a rural place called oklahoma, thanks in part to the efforts of tony stark. but even in a city bustling with people rebuilding their lives, there comes a time when the quiet seeps in like a cold wind, a reminder that there are fewer of them now, and that nothing will ever be the same. ]
[ new york is louder. full of horns blaring and the scuffle of hundreds of feet on pavement, flashing lights and billboards that advertise products, shows, stores thor has never heard of. it reminds him of how little time he's spent on midgard, how little he knows of its people. he will never be one of them β and on most occasions, his attempts to blend in with them are futile, given who he is and how recognizable he is with or without the cape, even with the significant changes to his appearance β but he can learn to appreciate them more, these people who look at him and see the thing they could only hope to be. (it surprises him still how powerful the human conviction can be, how they are willing to risk everything for the things they believe in.) ]
[ even without mjolnir, or the bifrost, getting to the city isn't hard. stephen strange offered him a bit of portal magic in return for his word that he would keep a watchful eye on his brother, and that if he ever needed assistance, the portal would take him to and from new york. he hasn't once used it for the purpose of seeking out strange's help, but it makes these bouts to the city more convenient than they would have been otherwise. ]
[ the people often blur together after some time, but something familiar prickles his skin as he makes his way down the street, dressed to match the locals in their business attire, as if he's off to meet someone important for lunch. he has no one to meet, and nowhere to go to, and yet he feels as if he is headed toward someone, or something, no longer aimlessly wandering the streets in search of something he won't find. there's a pull in his chest, almost like home is calling to him. ]
[ then he sees her. she doesn't look different, not as drastically as he does. she's exactly as he remembers her, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, her presence intimidating the very air around her. he can't believe it. for a moment, he doesn't. the lady sif, here. in new york. it seems β¦ too good to be true. and yet his heart swells and he finds himself rushing forward, calling her name, with a smile as broad as his shoulders. ]
Lady Sif! [ there's joy underneath the relief of seeing her, alive, but it barely masks the apprehension of the thought of explaining what's happened β why he looks like this, why he's here and not avenging, what's become of asgard. still, he won't let a reunion like this go to waste. he claps his hands on her shoulders amiably, looking her over as if to convince himself it's really her. ] It's good to see you. [ a beat. loki had said something about banishment, but he hadn't specified where, and until now thor hadn't had time to consider asking. besides, knowing sif, she wouldn't have simply sat around. he suspects this whole time she's been trying to find a way back to asgard. nevertheless, ] What are you doing on Midgard?
who do you think you're even talking to
she knows, like she knows most thing, that heimdall had done what he could for her. and that it hadn't just been the hands of fate that left her off in mitgard. that, when she came back from the sudden shift of transportation, it was to a familiar landscape. she knows that if loki had anything to say about it, she would not have ended up here. not somewhere she knew, not somewhere so close to others who could figure this out, who could come to understand why and how and when. but she was thankful for the knowing eyes on her back, thankful that even in this time of betrayal, of being told never to come home, she could at least set foot on familiar soil.
( she had wished for thor so much in those final moments, had wished for his sudden return in hopes that maybe he could see what was happening and stop it before it got out of hand. she had known he wouldn't hear, that he wouldn't return, as his missions were important for all of asgard and the universe at large.
but still, a part of her had hoped. )
new york in and of itself was a mess. it always felt that way, when she had been here before, and the longer she spent the more it felt the truth. people, buildings, heroes, criminals, rushing around her at all times and all ways. it had taken some getting used to, as she garnered more attention than she wanted to no matter her attempts to blend in, but she managed it. it has been some time, after all, and she is nothing if not adaptable. she still hasn't been sure of her position - her interactions with the avengers every now, her understanding of the issues between tony stark and steve rogers, what has been happening, but she has an apartment. she has some steady work. she has been dealing with each day as it has come and she has missed home, desperately and wholly.
the lack of communication, truly, had been the most difficult part. she didn't know the state of her friends, the state of her home, and she didn't know - wouldn't know - unless someone found it fit to seek her out in her banishment. and maybe there was a part of her that hoped that by being at mitgard, that by being here in new york city, she would come across someone who would bring her home.
though, despite that hope, she doesn't expect her name to be called out to her over the crowds. so much that she almost doesn't even recognize it - her alias has been so different, and she's gotten so used to it, so familiar, that her name doesn't even get her attention. not at first. until she thinks, a moment or two later, that she freezes in her steps and turns back to the sound of it. she might have just heard it, the first few months she lived here in new york city she thought she heard her name everywhere, thought she saw her friends in everyone.
so when she does turn, seeing thor rushing after her, she almost doesn't believe it. ]
Wha- [ her eyes widen, still not convinced until his hands clasp over her shoulders, and he's solid, and he's there, and he's asking her about what she's doing here and that it's good to see her and she just can't. quite. ]
What happened to your hair? [ is the first question that comes out, despite her attention behind elsewhere. ] And your eye? [ she reaches out to set her hand on his cheek, her brow furrowed as she examines the patch. the spot. he looks like allfather she thinks briefly, before she jerks herself out of the thought, because he asked her a question. because he's standing in front of her and looks like he belongs, and she can't quite wrap her head around it. ]
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[ a warm buzz courses through his veins, similar but not in entirely the same as the way lightning crackles beneath his skin. he hears valkyrie address him, and then give me your hand and he almost responds what for? until he looks down and realizes his knuckles are still bloody. right, of course. they'd been sparring. hand-to-hand, it seems. without mjolnir, and the loss of asgard's armory, he hasn't been left with many options. there are plenty of swords, collected from those who had fought valiantly against hela's hoard, but he still hasn't found one that carries the right weight, the right balance β and valkyrie won't let him have hers. he's asked. frequently. and very nicely. as her king. ]
[ it take him a moment to finally offer his hand to her, the volume of alcohol he's ingested in such a short time making his movement sluggish. the last time he drank this much, he was much younger and half as wise. if he listens closely enough, he can almost hear the boom of volstagg's laughter and the lilt of fandral's jests, a distant echo of another time. ]
Thank you. [ he hears himself say, and perhaps he means for this distraction, or for something else. everything, maybe. ]
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thor is king, now. but he is still young enough to wear the mantle of who he once was before the crown, too. so she feels no need to stand on ceremony with him. she doesn't hold back when they drink or when they fight. she doesn't mince words. but she's just drunk enough now to let the walls come down a little, holed up as they are away from the celebrations.
she asks for his hand and he offers it and without further ado, she tugs him down onto the floor to join her. she doesn't remember sitting (falling?) but that's nothing new; she knows, even with the room gently spinning and decades out of practice, that she is still one of the best. maybe she won, maybe she let him win, maybe it was a draw. but they're on the floor now and she reaches for her half-empty bottle of liquor to pour a splash on his bloodied knuckles. ]
Sorry, [ she mumbles, not really meaning it. but she's got a towel slung over her shoulder and rather than using it to mop the sweat off her face, she dabs at his hand, frowning a little as if that will make her eyes focus better. her lip is bleeding, slightly, but it just makes her smile. that old warrior spirit, maybe. ] Don't know if you should be thanking me for this, though.
el nysa au.
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Maybe there isn't a whole lot to say.
Or maybe it's a reminder of that old adage: actions speak louder than words.
In any case, Steve finds himself spending a lot of time up here on Thesa station - not particularly because he's got people to watch over (although there is that) but because Thor spends much of his time here and Thor ... well, sometimes Steve thinks he should be watching over him. There's a hell of a lot more to the Norse god than meets the eye, and it's a lesson he'd finally had the chance to learn since they'd been brought here, saved from the Storm that raged their worlds.
They have a lot in common, and they're friends (and something else) besides. Steve wants to be there for the other man in as great a capacity as he can be. ]
Figured I'd find you here.
[ His voice sounds much louder in the quiet of this space. ]
i'm doing it i'm doing the thing
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( the curve of thor's lips against loki's skin seems to indicated he does, indeed, remember that one instance, some ages ago when they were not yet men, still foolish princes of the crown with worries only as big as whether or not one could drown in a cask of ale. of course, one might argue thor is still a fool now, even with the crown on his head β and, truthfully, he wouldn't think them wrong.
this, after all, is incredibly foolish. but loki has always made him a fool, in this and in other things, forever until the end of time. a wise man would let him go. a wise man he is not. )
And what, pray tell, was this very important work of yours? ( if there truly was important work at all and not just the excuse of it, which thor finds highly more likely. still, that isn't the most important matter at hand.
he guides loki's hips downward with the weight of his hand, his cock already swelling beneath his pants, beckoning for the heat and friction only loki can provide. his hand could, too, he supposes, but it's never quite the same. )
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it applies even when they're engaged in activities not designed to hurt, activities that are just the opposite. thor may be king, but that makes this more precarious, not less. even if they weren't brothers, loki is still a liar, a traitor, a murderer in the eyes of many. barely fit to be at thor's side, let alone in his bed.
or, his lap, as the case may be. his hands slide down between them and undo the fastens of thor's pants. loki never did care about what other people think. )
The work you didn't do because you were too busy reveling with Asgard's sole surviving Valkyrie. ( it's a guess, but an educated one. ) I knew she'd be a bad influence on you. ( and that's a deflection.
also a deflection: the way he wraps his fist around thor's cock and draws it out of his pants. earlier teasing aside, it is truly impressive. that loki thinks so is obvious in the way he handles it now, the way his eyes darken and his lips part slightly. )
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it's got nothing to do with anything mantis described. loki has little care for thor or his friends, and as soon as it becomes more convenient to be in someone else's favor, he'll switch sides. that bug woman didn't know what she was talking about. and if he's been uncharacteristically silent since her little empathic parlor trick, it's not because he's embarrassed. because that would make it seem like what she said was true.
while thor sits on the bed, loki stands in the corner of their small room, undoing one of his gauntlets and not looking at thor. part of him wants to ignore his brother, to play the petty younger sibling and hold his tongue until it riles thor to anger, but that wouldn't look good, either. so, he says, ) And what would you have me speak about?
single dads au.
what's an endgame can you eat it (aka better ending)
So I figure I can just jump into a fjord and call it a day. Or a century, maybe. That's viable, right?
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You want to become a Hulksicle?
On purpose?
( really doesn't have the same ring to it that capsicle did. )
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That...is not a good word. No. We need to not use that one again.
But you know, in theory? Yes. It's not exactly a bad option.
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Except for me, of course.
And Loki.
And Valkyrie.
( okay, yes, loki isn't exactly anyone's "friend" and he's starting to lose sight of the point here, which is β )
We'll all live well beyond this ridiculous idea of yours, but they won't.
Do you really think the Avengers care so little for you?
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Two years say s[ nope, deleting that. that is a can of worms that can stay hermetically sealed and on the shelf with all the other cans he's got going on. it's a full-on pantry of nope in here.
so skip right to losing the point. ]
Somehow I don't think your brother would want to be put in that particular column.
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But I suppose he can't help it, it's in his nature to be contrary.
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Which, you know. It's valid.
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You should be proud knowing you're one of the few beings capable of bruising his ego like that.
Add that to your list of PhDs.
( yeah, he still doesn't know what a phd is. )
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[ probably makes him a bad person to be relieved (and maybe a little smug) that Loki knows (mostly) better than to mess with him but. well. good people don't have monsters in their head. oops. ]
PhDs aren't
They don't
It isn't exactly like that so. No.
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( he's genuinely curious here, because he wouldn't be thor if he weren't actually sincere about. everything. )
Is a PhD not a title of accomplishment?
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PhD is a very specific kind of accomplishment, where you have to produce original research and write something up. I don't think I can get much peer review on "Means & Methods of Intimidating Asgardians".
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Peers here mean... You know. People in the same field. Like Erik or
[ he nearly says Jane. he nearly says Tony. both names twist something inside him, one bittersweet and one just...bitter. betrayed. angry. he ]
Other scientists. The other Asgardians don't exactly have degrees in Loki-wrangling.
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( ... )
Would you like me to call Jane, then?
( see, it was a mutual dumping, so they're totally fine and he can call her whenever he wants because they are adults and everything is fine. he just. hasn't. he's been busy. searching the cosmos for infinity stones, winning fights against hulk, kicking his sister's ass. you know, godly things. very godly, not thinking about jane things. it's fine. )
you ever hit send without noticing you missed whole ass sentences of sad meta? nah me either
I mean, if you want to then obviously you can. Not about to stop you if you were to do that. But you wouldn't have to just for me, since
Been years anyway. And if she were going to talk to somebody here, it'd definitely be you. Especially with the whole...shift in situation. It's. You know.
Do you want to?
text;
( obviously. c'mon, steve. in his defense, thor isn't always on-world, let alone within the range of cell towers. until recently, steve wasn't sure thor knew how to use a phone. so, doesn't hurt to play it safe. )
You doing okay?
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( guess who is Very Excited to hear from him. yeah, this god. whether he actually knows how to use a phone is still up for debate, but tony at least programmed it with all the avengers' phone numbers for him. )
Have you been to Norway?
You should come to Norway. Come see me.
( ... )
Loki's also here, but he's better now, I promise.
( which is subjective at best, but thor's always going to be loki's #1 apologist. )
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That's good. I think.
You know, I actually haven't been to Norway. Been close a few times.
It's thundering here over New York. So I thought...
( he wasn't sure what he thought, but. it made him think of his friend. )
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the smile that crosses his lips at the mention of thunder is fond, if not a little melancholy. a reminder of what he's lost (even if it's always been part of him). before, that storm might have been his calling card; it still could be if he were anywhere near new york, but β well, without mjolnir, there's a whole ocean between brooklyn and new asgard. )
Ah, not me, I'm afraid.
Were you hoping otherwise?
( if he could be, he would be there now. )
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( it didn't really occur to him until thor asked—that part of him had been hoping—but the ache in his chest is unmistakable. it's not overly strong. a tug of longing, the gentle pang of missing a kindred spirit. the avengers had been his family, but thor had always felt the most like a brother.
of course, thor already had a brother. he probably didn't need another. )
I just always kind of wondered how it worked, you know?
Being a god of thunder.
Are the storms tied to your moods?
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In a way, yes. Mjolnir was something of a conduit, but I've always had the power within me.
The stronger the emotion, the stronger the storm.
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at least, that's what steve always told himself. )
Is it always negative emotions?
Or are happy thunderstorms a thing, too?
( text ) iw/endgame who i don't know her
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And also king.
Are you telling me transforming into a boring Midgardian serpent isn't part of the trick?
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And of course not. Why would I turn into anything that resembles Midgard in the slightest?
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( that's ... not how it works either, thor, but okay. )
Because you know how much I love Midgard?
Here I thought you were the smart one, brother.
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Bold of you to think I enjoy being a snake because of you.
[ though that probably has something to do with it. damnit. ]
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( he is possibly being this obtuse on purpose. )
Don't you?
Though really, Loki, I can admire you just as well as you are.
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Forgive me if I seem skeptical to the nature of your . . . appreciation.
doo de doo doo de statesman
Which first means finding a place for everyone. ]
That's Korg and Mung and Miek all bunked together, and. No-Name and Yaeris went and cleared out what looked like a linen closet? Or something? Regardless there's now a cocoon on the ceiling and a nest on the floor so they're set. Which just left Hiroim and Elloe and [ she frowns at the scrap of paper in her hand ] Bill, I still don't know how that's his name but not the point.
[ Then again there are many things that Bryce still doesn't know, first and foremost why she's apparently the one in charge of the non-Asgardians shortly followed by why the non-Asgardians want her in charge and actually listen to what she has to say and think she knows what she's doing. Just more people that she'll inevitably disappoint before they wise up and pick somebody who won't screw everything up.
Focus. ]
They just squared away in some backup pantry on the third deck. Which is all to say that unless we stop and pick up some hitchhiker off an asteroid or something, everybody has a room now and there's, um. One less thing to worry about for the next... [ a moment to calculate before she just shrugs ] Five minutes? At least.
[ Of course nowhere on any of Bryce's lists is her own name but that's a minor detail. Sleep is for other peopleβ Even if it weren't (except it definitely is, shush) she'd grown out of needing something as luxurious as a bed years ago, learned to appreciate any relatively flat surface that wasn't freezing cold or flooded up to the knees. Anything past that is...you know. It's gravy. She'll live.
But as stated, sleep's for other people who aren't terrified to blink and lose another two years of their life. So she's fine. ]